


Handle With Care

by emmykay



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Gen, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:33:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3066323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmykay/pseuds/emmykay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shouma is being taken care of.  Android!Gan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handle With Care

Shouma opened the door to the large capsule. On the side was an enormous sticker that read "Handle With Care." It had been delivered a few days ago by a duo of bland-looking delivery people, but Shouma had been too nervous to open it. Inside, its back to Shouma, stood a tall, sturdy-looking unit dressed in a baseball uniform. Across the back of the shirt was stenciled "GAN."

The older of the delivery people had handed Shouma the book before he had left. She had told him that everything he needed to know about the android's functions and capabilities were inside. It was customizable on every level. And because it had been a gift of sorts, it was fully exchangeable for 90 days.

The organization had sent the android, knowing that Shouma had needed help. The accident had rendered one of his arms largely useless for any activity that involved over the head movement.

Shouma opened the book. It wasn't a book, exactly. It was an interactive tablet, designed to mimic a book. A funny touch for a company that created interactive robots designed to mimic people. 

His stomach hurt a bit. He wasn't terribly fond of new experiences. He hadn't left the house in weeks. Not since the accident. Food was easily delivered, both prepared and raw ingredients. Entertainment was easily had at the touch of a button. He hadn't bought clothing in months.

The book had a soft voice, speaking low and slowly. Shouma could change the pitch and the speed based upon a few dials tucked into the side. The book asked if Shouma wanted to speak or type or use the pressure-sensitive surface. Shouma liked pushing the surface and the way the book lit up whenever he selected an option. It was like every answer he gave was correct.

The book asked if Shouma liked Gan's name. Gan's name could change to anything Shouma wanted. Shouma thought 'Gan' was fine. Gan's face was also customizable - within the standard limits of the material-reactive surface. Shouma swept through the face shapes, various noses, mouths, eyebrows, hair styles and colors until he got tired and pressed "Okay."

After an hour of selecting options, then another hour while the android reorganized its appearance, the book asked if Shouma was ready to wake up Gan. Shouma nodded uneasily. Then he spent a few minutes looking at Gan's back until he realized that the book wasn't capable of receiving information that way.

He pushed the "yes" button.

Gan stepped backward out of the capsule and then turned. The face was a simple, kind construction with round dark eyes and great arching eyebrows. Shouma couldn't remember which exact combination of features had led to that face. 

"Good morning, Shouma," it said. It had the same voice as the book.

"G- good morning, Gan," Shouma replied.

"Have you eaten?" Gan surveyed the small apartment. 

"No," Shouma said. "I mean, no, I haven't eaten."

"Would you like me to make you food?"

"You - you cook?"

"I am here to take care of you. Cooking is one of the basic routines of my model. Your refrigerator has the ingredients for omelettes."

"You - you can talk to the fridge?"

"I am capable of communicating with most technologies currently in production," Gan said. "I can adjust for your favorite meals and a variety of minor medical difficulties. I also have an internal scheduler for any appointments. What would you like to do?"

"I would like eggs, please. Fried."

Gan nodded. Shouma might have imagined it, but it appeared as if the refrigerator, the stove, and the dishwasher all settled into different kind of hum once he stepped into the kitchen space. 

The eggs came out perfectly.

Gan made mistakes, but rarely. Shouma knew that some of that was due to his own faulty directions, or a lack of clarity of his desires. Once the problem was pointed out, Gan would ask questions, give a nod and then go about taking care of business.

This was not a bad way to live, Shouma considered. Being taken care of by an android that did exactly what you bid it. 

Until, of course, there came the time Shouma was due for physical therapy. Gan was relentless, in that calm, unjudgemental, machine way. "You need to see your doctor."

"Why?" Shouma asked. 

"Because the internal scheduler requires it."

"I don't require it. I thought this was _my_ schedule," Shouma said, stubborn.

Gan said, "I have come preprogrammed with a few mandatory routines that cannot be changed. One is your physical therapy."

Shouma was suddenly incensed. "I do not need physical therapy! Who put the appointment on your schedule?"

"The organization is very concerned," Gan said. "If you follow the orders, you will be able to work for them again."

Shouma paused. He did want to work again, be useful once more. "Will you come with me?"

"Yes," Gan replied.

* * *

Gan took care of everything. Shouma felt he should take a greater part of responsibility, but it was easy to let Gan do it. 

At the end of each day, Gan stepped back into its capsule, back to the main part of the apartment. If Shouma stood in close enough, he could feel the minute shudder as Gan shut down for the night.

Once, Shouma woke up, sweating, tearful. Without thinking, he called out, "Gan!"

Within moments, Gan powered up and walked over to the side of the bed. "Shouma? Is there something wrong?"

"I - I - " Shouma's voice faded as his embarrassment increased.

"Would you like me to stand here, by your side, until you fall asleep again?"

"Would that mistime your recovery cycle?" Shouma asked anxiously. He wanted Gan to stay, but not if he couldn't have Gan during the day.

Gan said, "I am here to take care of you."

"But - "

"My recovery cycle is adjustable. I will stay."

* * *

Gan learned how to help Shouma through the movements of the physical therapy, touching his shoulder, rotating it within the limits calculated by the doctor, using cold and heat therapies, and massages. Shouma had expected the android's fingers to be cold and clumsy. Instead, the composite material was a neutral warm temperature, always dry, with a sensation that reminded Shouma of wood sanded to a silky feel, and so pressure sensitive that Gan was better at determining the exact way to break an egg better than Shouma was. 

The other thing Gan did regularly was send back reports to the organization as to Shouma's progress.

Shouma wasn't thrilled with the tattling to the organization, but he understood that was the price to pay if he wanted to keep the idea of playing alive. If he wanted to keep Gan.

He was reluctant to admit it, but the therapy was helping. The doctors thought it wouldn't be long now.

* * *

Something was wrong with Gan. 

Shouma first noticed it when Gan began repeating itself. "Do you want to do your exercises?"

"You just asked me that."

"Excuse me. Do you want to do your exercises?"

Shouma stared at Gan.

"Shouma," Gan said, its voice as calm as ever, "Do you want to do your exercises?"

Panicking, Shouma found the book. There was a tree of commands to give, each one leading to another. Gan got up, walked to a corner, returned, made a fist, touched each fingertip to its thumb. Each success made Shouma cautiously, curiously happy.

"Gan," Shouma asked, "What is the last sentence you said to me?" 

Gan replied, "Do you want to do your exercises?"

"What was the first sentence you said to me?"

The correct sentence glowed on the screen of the book.

"Do you want to do your exercises?"

"No," Shouma said, frightened. As instructed by the book, Shouma placed the book up against Gan's front torso, like a shield. The book glowed, along with Gan's face. There was only quiet, broken by Shouma's nervous breathing. Then the book beeped. 

"Cycle complete," the book said, in Gan's voice.

Shouma waited.

"Good morning, Shouma," Gan said. "Have you eaten?"

And Shouma breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

The next episode, Gan seemed aware, its voice breaking as it asked Shouma if Shouma wanted something to eat. "Did Shouma _want_ something to eat? Did Shouma want _something_ to eat?" The ability to express itself seemed to slip away as Gan went through iterations of stressing different words without seeming to understand what they meant.

Shouma went through the book's cycle again. Holding the book up against Gan, it glowed. Gan's face glowed. This glowing period seemed longer to Shouma than the first. The book beeped, multiple times.

"Cycle incomplete," it said in Gan's voice. 

Gan's humming stopped.

"Unit is to be recalled for correction."

* * *

The delivery people appeared the next morning. 

"When is he going to come back?" Shouma asked.

The older woman looked at him, a little pity in her eyes. "This model has some faults. We've been taking them back all year. If you call the company, you can get a replacement. You'll probably have to pay a little bit more, but that one comes with a two-year guarantee. This unit only had a year."

"Tell you what - we'll come back in a couple of hours. We've got to do a couple drop-offs anyway."

* * *

Shouma didn't know what to say to Gan when they were finally left alone. Time ticked away, and Shouma stared at Gan, shut down in his capsule. The whole apartment sounded different, somehow. Even different from when Gan was normally shut down.

Finally, Shouma stepped into Gan's capsule. He could hear his breath echo inside the half-shell-shaped container. He lifted his arms and put them around the body of the android. Gan was surprisingly big. The composite skin was still neutrally warm, and where Shouma could touch, still as silky as fine-sanded wood. 

Shouma stood there a long, long time. His breathing changed, from nervous, swift little pants to long, slow shuddering sobs.

"Gan. Thank you for taking care of me."

* * *

The delivery people came back a few days later, carting in a capsule of a different color. 

"I didn't order this," Shouma said, upset.

The delivery people shrugged. "Somebody did. These units don't go out without an order."

Shouma frowned. The organization wouldn't have sent a replacement. Would they? Why? He'd be returning soon.

Shouma opened it immediately, anxious. The back of the unit said "Natsu." 

He went to the book the delivery person handed to him. The book was different from the one he had used with Gan. Hurriedly, Shouma selected out a series of options, angry at himself for not remembering Gan's exact combination of eyes, eyebrows, face shape, and even if he had, all the options were different. There were more of them, and the changes were more subtle. He hit the "yes" button before he realized he hadn't changed the unit's name.

The unit was much faster at constructing itself.

"Good morning, Shouma," it said, in that new, different, not-Gan voice. The Natsu voice.

"Good morning," Shouma gritted out, trying to figure out how to get back to the customization page. Everything was so different than what he remembered - !

"Have you eaten?" Natsu said, surveying the small apartment.

"No," Shouma said. "I'm not hungry."

"There are ingredients to make soup." Natsu paused. And then it said, "Gan said I am to take care of you."

Shouma nearly dropped the book. "What?"

"Gan left instructions. I am to take care of you. Do you want soup? Tomato?"

"I - I - yes."

When the soup was served, Shouma ate as if every spoonful were a precious gift.


End file.
